


Lost and Found

by GraeWrites



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Gen, High School AU, cursing, vague hints at an abusive home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-11 20:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16859983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraeWrites/pseuds/GraeWrites
Summary: High School AU. “Patton had always thought Roman had this way of filling every room he entered, but standing here on the porch Roman looks like he can barely fill the shoes he’s standing in.”





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Have some emotional angst for the sunshine pair, I guess? One of my shorter fics and even though I got a little emotional at times writing it, I’m not sure how well it translated in writing. Sometimes that’s just how it goes. I hope this turned out okay.

Patton Foster hears the doorbell ring from downstairs and frowns at the clock. 11:00 PM. Who was coming to his house so late at night?

His mom isn’t home anyway, and Patton debates whether or not to answer the door. He pushes the blankets off his legs and sets his history textbook beside his lap before padding over to his bedroom window. It’s raining outside, and dark, but he peers through the blinds anyway. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees none other than Roman Prince standing at his doorstep. Patton doesn’t see his car in the driveway or on the street. A backpack is slung over one shoulder. His hair is sopping wet, and he doesn’t seem to be wearing a jacket.

Patton rushes out of his room and down the steps, worry twisting his stomach. What the hell was Roman doing at his house at this hour? On a school night?

“Coming!” Patton announces as he hurries down the steps to the front door. He quickly unlocks it. “Roman, what are you doing here?” The question spills out his mouth almost before the door is open.

Roman looks up and Patton freezes. His eyes are rimmed red, and even in the dark Patton notices how pale he looks. Roman looks absolutely drenched, his bangs plastered to his forehead from the rain. Patton had always thought Roman had this way of filling every room he entered, but standing here on the porch Roman looks like he can barely fill the shoes he’s standing in.

He flashes something that Patton thinks is supposed to be a smile. “Hey, Patton.”

“Hey,” Patton says in a concerned voice, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the house. “You’re soaked.”

The young teen trips over his own feet as he stumbles in. Patton steadies him with a hand on his elbow. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be awake,” Roman half mumbles. “I just…” The thought lingers, unfinished.

Patton chews quietly on his lip as he gently guides Roman over to the couch. “Don’t even worry about it, kiddo,” he says, the tone several pounds lighter than the weight in his stomach. “Get those shoes off. I’ll grab you a towel so you can dry off a bit.”

“You—I—“ Roman stops suddenly. He takes in a breath that doesn’t sound entirely steady to Patton. Then he gives him a smile that looks a little too much like a grimace. “Thank you,” he says, much softer.

Patton swallows, offers a smile of his own that he hopes is reassuring, and leaves the living room to grab a towel from down the hall. He stops for a moment before opening the door to the closet, fishing his phone out of his pocket. He hadn’t even thought to check if Roman had maybe said something in a text or tried to call him…

Ro 👑

_U home?_

It had been sent maybe a minute or two before he’d rang the doorbell. No missed calls, and no other texts. Patton thinks briefly about texting either Logan or Virgil, but he wouldn’t even know what to tell them, or if Roman would be okay with them knowing he was here. So for now, Patton slips the phone back into his pocket, grabs a blue towel, and heads back to the living room.

“I’m, uh—“ Roman coughs awkwardly as he takes the towel from Patton’s outstretched hand, “Sorry about just… dropping by like this.” He won’t look Patton in the eyes, and it suddenly occurs to him that Roman hasn’t looked him in the eye since Patton first opened the door.

He glances at the backpack—now sitting on the floor beside Roman’s feet—and then back at the young teen. “You don’t need to apologize,” Patton assures him. “Studying by myself is no fun, anyway.”

The tentative silence that swallows his words at the end feels like a void that Patton has to fill. Roman is sitting on his couch with a towel in his hands looking smaller than Patton can ever remember seeing him. If the couch could swallow him whole, Patton is pretty sure Roman would let it.

Patton slips his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I… was going to make some tea. Do you want some?”

Roman takes a breath as if he’s going to say something, then sighs and nods. The corner of his mouth twitches as if he feels obligated to try to smile. Patton’s heart twists, but he ducks into the kitchen anyway and busies himself with heating water. He rifles through the countless mugs on the shelf and pulls out one that he hopes might get a smile out of Roman. At this point, he’ll try just about anything.

Patton drops the teabags into the steaming cups and adds two spoons of sugar to Roman’s before heading back out to the living room with both mugs in hand.

“Since you’re, y’know,  _our guest_ ,” Patton says as he hands the mug—painted to look identical to Chip from  _Beauty and the Beast_ —to Roman, “I thought this was a fitting cup choice.” Patton sees the faintest spark of humor alight in his friend’s eyes and counts it as a win.

“Thank you,” Roman replies. He curls both hands around the small teacup. Patton is faintly pleased to see that his face is dry now, and the towel is around his shoulders.

The rain on the roof is a steady stream of white noise, the occasional distant rumble of thunder keeping track of the passing time. The storm sounds heavy, in that calming sort of way that always soothed something inside of Patton.

He lets the silence stretch between them for a while as he sits on the far side of the couch. He keeps a close eye on Roman between sips of tea. He’s curled around himself with exhaustion, but his leg bounces with a tense kind of energy. Roman looks like someone who has been running for too long but is still ready to make a break for it. Patton doesn’t know what he’s trying to out-run, but more than anything, he wants Roman to know that it’s okay to stop.

So Patton stays quiet, and lets him catch his breath.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed—ten minutes, maybe fifteen?—when he realizes that the backpack at Roman’s feet isn’t the same one he usually brought to school. It’s the same color, but a little bit bigger and definitely stuffed full of something. His eyes flit quickly back up to look at Roman.

He looks lost. His gaze flits around the room like he’s looking for a place to fit.

“I’m not sure when my mom will be home,” Patton says in a soft, gentle voice. “So if you want to take my bed so that she doesn’t wake you up when she comes home, I don’t mind.”

Roman blinks quickly and shakes his head. “Oh, Patton, I couldn’t possibly stay—“

“Nonsense,” Patton tells him easily. “You didn’t appear to drive here, and there’s no way I’m letting you walk home—,” Roman takes in a breath—“in this storm.”

“No, really,” Roman insists, setting the cup on the coffee table in front of him. “I shouldn’t have even stopped by, it’s so late—“

“It’s not that late—“ Patton sets his own cup on the table as well.

“—I just didn’t really know where to go. I mean, I was just walking and then ended up here—“

“Roman—“

Roman is speaking faster now, his voice getting higher almost like he’s panicking. “—But that’s hardly an excuse, and I didn’t even ask or anything, I just thought I could maybe stop by and, I don’t know—“

“You know you’re always welcome here—“

Roman stands up and grabs the strap of his backpack. “—I can’t  _stay_ , though, I mean, I don’t want to waste space here too—“

“Roman,  _wait_.” Patton’s hand shoots out.

Roman flinches like he’s expecting to be hit.

Patton freezes. It’s in the next moment that he sees Roman’s eyes brim with tears. The sight squeezes Patton’s chest hard enough to hurt.

“Roman…” Patton tries, but he has no words.

“I…” Roman’s breath trembles as he drags it into his lungs. He brushes the back of his hand across his eyes. “I’m  _sorry_.” The backpack thuds to the ground. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

Patton pushes himself to his feet. “Hey,” he says, so softly it’s almost a whisper. He steps around the coffee table to stand in front of his friend. “No, Roman. You don’t need to be sorry.”

“They kicked me  _out_ , Patton. I’m—“ The words choke in Roman’s throat. A broken sob replaces them. Patton thinks he can feel his heart splintering.

Patton swallows down the helplessness he can feel clawing up his throat. “Stay here,” he says, and something sounds wrong in his voice—it sounds too tight, too pained to be his own—but he means the offer sincerely.

“Patton, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“No, I can’t.”

Patton swallows hard. “Why not?”

Roman’s hands curl into fists at his sides. “I just… I  _can’t_ , okay? They said I’m a waste of space in my own  _home_ , Patton—“

“They lied to you,” Patton cuts in, firm.

“But  _what if they didn’t,_ huh?” Roman snarls, throwing his hands up. “What if they were  _right_  to not want me? All I ever wanted was to just… to just…” He can’t finish the thought, but he doesn’t need to. Roman meets Patton’s eyes—fear and desperation etched into his irises like broken shards of glass—and Patton knows exactly what lies unspoken at the end of that sentence.

Patton holds his gaze for a long, quiet moment.

“Roman Prince, I need you to listen to me,” he says in a quiet voice. He takes a step closer and slowly, gently, places his hands on Roman’s shoulders. “You are  _never_  a waste of space. Okay?”

Roman squeezes his eyes shut and Patton softly brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “Patton—“

“You’re accepted here,” Patton continues. “You are celebrated here. Just as you are. You have people who care about you. You  _do_. For as long as we’ve known you, you have been so important to us. You are wanted. You are worthy. You are, you are, you  _are, you are_ ,” he whispers emphatically. Patton brushes away Roman’s tears with the pad of his thumb. “You are so deeply and greatly and gently  _loved_ , Roman.”

Roman makes a sound that is something between a sob and a laugh. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Then stay.” Patton offers a small, lopsided smile and pretends that the edges of his own vision aren’t blurring with tears too. “Stay here.”

Roman sniffles, glancing at Patton through red, watery, exhausted eyes. “I’m not taking your bed,” he says, managing a faint smile of his own, and Patton feels his heart leap at what the words mean. Roman will stay. And things won’t be fixed in the morning but at least Roman has a place to feel found instead of lost.

“Yes, you are,” Patton argues lightheartedly, wiping at his own tears. “You’re going to sleep in my bed to ensure you get a decent night’s rest, Roman, or so help me I will physically fight you.”

Roman holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, Padrè. Take it easy.” There’s something soft, something still vulnerable, in Roman’s eyes. He lowers his hands a moment later. “Thank you, Patton,” he says, and Patton knows without asking that he isn’t just thanking him for the bed.

“Any time, Roman.”


End file.
